


Welcome to Femboy Hooters

by Muserobbin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossdressing, Femboy hooters, Feminization, M/M, Peter Parker is a Mess, Pining, Protective Tony Stark, Spanking, Steve Rogers's Birthday, Waiter Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muserobbin/pseuds/Muserobbin
Summary: Bucky and Sam have conspired to take Steve to restaurant they are sure he will enjoy. The whole team comes along, and Tony is very surprised to find out where his young mentee has been spending all of his time lately.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 147





	Welcome to Femboy Hooters

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from TikTok...

“What are we even doing here?” Steve hissed as the group walked up to the restaurant.

Tony raised his hands in defense, “Don’t look at me.”

Sam and Bucky exchanged an uneasy glance. They had been so sure that Steve would appreciate the gesture, but now, they were questioning themselves, especially Bucky who knew his boyfriend would have words with him later. Sam would surely be off the hook.

He never should have agreed to this.

“Where’s Peter?” Natasha asked to break up the tension. She already knew the answer. The kid had some school function; he had been having more and more of those lately.

“Oh, my God,” Steve breathed, after Bucky got the door. “After you.”

He walked in with stiff shoulders and approached the host stand.

“Do you have a reservation?” The host asked brightly. He had an orange crop top on that read Femboy Hooters in glittery print and some incredibly short shorts. His cheeks glowed with highlighter and his plump lips pouted when Steve didn’t answer immediately. He fluttered his long lashes, and Steve found that his words were caught in his throat.

“What’s the matter, handsome; cat got your tongue?”

“Well, I- I-”

Unbeknownst to the star-spangled man with a plan, Sam and Bucky were sharing a fist bump behind his back much to Tony’s utter amusement.

“You got a name, fellow?” Another flutter of the lashes.

“Steve, Steve Rogers,” he replied, dryly.

“Right this way.”

Bucky put a hand on Steve’s lower back to get his leg in motion. The host moved gracefully around the other diners while Steve muttered apologies as he squeezed his broad shoulders together as not to bump anyone.

They were led to a round booth in the corner of the restaurant, the only table with a wide enough berth for Bruce. The poor green giant even brought his own chair now after many unfortunate and embarrassing accidents.

Tony concurred that Steve was happy to have a little privacy although he ended up in the middle, facing outward toward the rest of the room.

“Your server will be right with you,” The host said as he passed menus around, leaning dramatically over the table so that his narrow waste became impossibly thin and his round bottom stuck out in the air. He gave Tony, who was on the outer left, his menu last with a flirtatious grin and wink. “Here you go, handsome.”

Scott and Rhodey found this especially amusing.

“Alright, alright,” Tony grumbled, focusing on the selection of burgers.

Unknown to the host, half of the table had super hearing and heard when he made a beeline straight for the server station.

“Oh, my God, honey. Table 37 is so yours. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many hunks in one place. If you don’t get at least one number, it would be a sin.”

The musical clink of ice falling into glass cups followed the whooshing of the soda machine as a disgruntled server worked quickly to complete the drink order from a different table.

“Harley,” the server said. “Why did you double-seat me?”

“You’ll thank me later.”

Natasha was the only one who recognized the server as he approached, after all, it was no accident that Sam came across that flyer advertising the restaurant ending toxic masculinity. The rest of the table remained oblivious including the server himself who moodily passed out coasters. The conversation was still going strong.

“Hi, welcome to Femboy Hooters. I’m Peter, and I will be taking care of you this evening.”

The conversation slowly trickled out until the whole booth became quiet. Bruce’s chair creaked dangerously as he shifted in discomfort.

Indeed, Peter Parker, stood before them in an orange, sparkly crop top and booty shorts. His makeup was done tastefully to accentuate his best features, and his hair was gelled into a clean, smooth swoop. One dangly earing caught the light, blinding Tony for a moment.

Peter had his pen and notepad at the ready and finally looked up to offer a broad smile, perhaps to win them over despite his foul mood.

The flirty smile turned to one of tight mortification.

“M- Mr. Stark,” Peter said first.

His mentor was looking at him from over the tops of his tinted glasses as if to check that EDITH wasn’t playing a game with him. Peter slowly swiveled around to the rest of table before lifting his pen hand and waving awkwardly.

“Hey, everyone.”

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Natasha said, trying to smooth over the tension.

“Happy Birthday, Steve,” Peter smiled shyly, cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

He pulled at his top for a moment, trying to add length that just wasn’t there. His tiny waste and narrow hips just barely held up his jean shorts.

“Thanks, Peter,” Steve said, easily.

Tony could tell that he was guiltily relieved that the attention wasn’t on him anymore. No, this would be the talk of the compound for weeks, if not months which Peter was painfully aware of if his expression was anything to go by.

“No, problem,” he murmured, suddenly becoming very interested in his notepad. “Can I get you all something to drink?”

Tony could tell the kid was struggling to keep up the femboy persona. Other than a hip, tilted cockily to the side, Peter had lost all of his previous demeanor and looked quite serious.

“Thanks, I’ll start,” Scott said, cheerfully.

Saving Tony for last was perhaps the worst outcome. Peter could feel the older man’s eyes watching him as he scribbled shakily on his notepad.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Tony was the only one who notice that Peter dragged the host by the shirtsleeve into the server station.

Everyone at the table was talking all at once.

“Did you know?” Bruce said quietly to Tony.

“I had no idea,” Tony replied with a frown. If the kid was hurting for money, Tony wouldn’t mind upping his salary at all. Hell, he had already tried to give him a percentage of the company. It was Peter who had objected. Stubborn Peter who grew up in Queens and had turned to serving middle aged men in a crop top.

He glared at one in particular that couldn’t focus long enough on his drink to keep from spilling it down his shirt as Peter passed his table, ass cheeks falling out of his jean shorts.

_Jesus Christ._

When Peter returned, it was with another server whose name tag read Wade.

“Here you are.”

Everyone but Tony had ordered an alcoholic beverage, so Peter lamely set down the diet coke with lime in front of his boss. That’s right; Peter was not yet 18 and so couldn’t serve alcohol.

“Do you need another minute?” He fluttered his eyelashes as Wade was still passing out drinks to the table.

“Yes, thank you,” Tony answered louder than necessary, patting Peter on the shoulder.

His cheeks went tomato red as he stumbled away, ass cheeks bouncing all the way.

“Alright,” Rhodey said. “Let’s not torture the kid. Why don’t we talk about something else? Steve, what was your favorite mission this year?”

As they listened to Steve’s adventure with Bucky in the Amazon, Tony couldn’t help but follow his young mentee with his eyes as he moved about the room. Peter was in full action at all the other tables, but acted as if Tony had taken his suit again when he returned to theirs, not that anybody could blame him given the situation. He probably _was_ afraid Tony would take his suit again.

At one point, Tony excused himself to the bathroom rather abruptly to the untrained eye. Only Natasha picked up on the fact their young server had also headed in that direction.

He did his business and Peter emerged from a stall, eyes round when he saw his companion.

“M- Mr. Stark!” He stuttered, pulling at his shorts.

Tony winced. “Please, don’t call me that while dressed in that… attire,” he said vaguely, waving his hand towards Peter.

“Oh, um. Okay, Tony.” It sounded funny to both of their ears.

He leaned against the sink and folded his arms to his chest.

“I’m sorry; I have to know. Is it for the money?”

Peter’s face changed from shy embarrassment to one of annoyance.

“No,” he said, coolly.

“I’m sorry?”

Peter sighed, and some of that sassiness Tony had seen him use at the other table crept up. “I like the atmosphere. I feel like I can really be myself here.”

The elder took his glasses off. “Are you telling me you would rather be ogled all night than in the lab with me?”

“I’d rather go anywhere with you, sir.”

The kid’s outfit made the statement seem downright raunchy. They both cringed.

“I- I just meant that I like spending time with you.”

Tony looked absolutely scandalized. “I’m sorry, I think I need to have this conversation when you, well, to be frank, have more clothes on.”

Peter groaned and put in his face in his hands. “Oh, my God, Mr. Stark.”

“Jesus, kid,” Tony practically yelled. “What did I say about you calling me that while dressed like _that_?!”

Something seemed to click in the kid’s brain because his face lit up then neutralized in about two seconds.

“I’ll see you in the lab, Mr. Stark.” Peter murmured as he brushed, yes, actually brushed past his mentor.

Tony would be lying if he said that he didn’t love watching the teen leave.

Alone, he splashed water onto his face and rubbed vigorously. “Oh, my God, Tony. What are you doing?”

The rest of the evening, Peter seemed to have recovered himself and put on quite a show singing Femboy Hooters’ rendition of “Happy Birthday” to a very embarrassed Steve. Sam got it on video. 

Tony obviously picked up the bill when it arrived and _obviously_ left a very large tip, all in cash. He ignored Nat’s watchful gaze and called the cars around.

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve said and bumped his shoulder on the way out.

“Hey, what about me?” Bucky protested.

Steve just glared.

“You didn’t like it? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“Alright, alright, save it for the bedroom,” Rhodey called.

Tony was happy that he had chosen to go in the “mature” car with the OG six. He couldn’t imagine being with Scott and Sam at the moment.

The following Saturday, Tony found himself antsy for the webslinger’s arrival. He brewed himself another solo cup of coffee from his advanced Keurig that Peter had given him for Christmas. It had been mostly directed toward minimizing Tony’s plastic waist.

A loud beep signified that the coffee was done brewing, one of the additions to the Keurig. Oftentimes, Tony would get caught up in his head and forget that he brewed any in the first place.

“Peter Parker has arrived, boss,” Friday announced.

He realized he still had Peter’s Birthday present up and slapped his hands together to collapse the hologram.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter greeted with no less enthusiasm than usual.

So, they were going to pretend the previous Saturday evening had never happened, which was fine. Tony could deal with that. He was good at letting things go. Fantastic at boundaries.

They got to work, somewhat awkwardly at first, but soon fell into the old routine of finishing each other’s sentences and spinning ideas off the other. 

But, of course, Tony was Tony.

“So, young buck,” he mused.

Peter immediately shrunk into his hoodie like a turtle into its shell.

“We really don’t need to do this, Mr. Stark. Let’s just pretend-”

“Does May know?”

“I- What?” Peter scratched his head.

“You’re a terrible liar. Won’t want you being interrogated, like ever.”

“Okay, ouch?”

Tony tilted his head so that their eyes were almost level. “Stop… lying.”

He pinched Peter’s ribs playfully. “You silly goose.”

He only added the last part when his young mentee let out a yelp that could have passed for an aphrodisiac.

Tony had always suspected that the spiderling was more sensitive post-bite, if that was even what happened. Oh, he would ask the first chance he got to get some Asgardian cocktail down Peter’s throat. It was the ultimate truth serum.

Peter wrapped his arms protectively around his waist. “I- That’s, no.”

“No, what?”

“Don’t do that.”

He frowned at Peter but let it go as they were already in dangerous territory. Why couldn’t he just not be so Tony for five seconds?

“Just one question.”

“What?” Peter said in exasperation.

“Is the uniform included or do you guys make it?”

“That’s it.” Peter slapped his hands to his head of curls, pulling at them in frustration. He, then, snagged his backpack and went straight out the door.

Well, that was unexpected.

Tony thought the crime fighting, femboy hooter spider was more embarrassed than upset until he didn’t show up the next Saturday or the following one after that. Even Happy noticed.

“Where’s the kid?”

“Oh, you know, busy. You know how teenagers are.” Tony had his story ready.

“What, is he pulling another shift at that fa-“

“Let me just stop you right there. One, don’t you dare say what you were about to say in my presence, or ever. Two, it’s a sensitive subject; don’t bring it up to the kid’s face. Three, I may or may not have screwed the pooch with him.”

Happy, who had decently sobered up after the first point, became concerned.

“What did you do?”

A sigh.

“Tony…”

“I might have mentioned it in the lab.”

“That’s why he’s not been back, isn’t it?”

He massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“And you’re lecturing me, figures.”

“I asked him if he made his uniform or if they gave it to him.”

“Well, that’s not bad. It’s just a question.”

“That’s what I thought, but he didn’t take it well.”

Happy pondered this for a moment. “Well, maybe it is a little offensive. You know how everyone is these days. So sensitive, can’t take a joke.”

“Kid’s sensitive,” Tony said more to himself than to Happy.

“Well, considering it was you, and he wasn’t prepared for that sort of thing. It’s probably some secret life now that Spidey’s out of the bag. Teenagers are weird; maybe he likes keeping secrets.”

“Kinky,” Tony commented.

The other was appalled. “No, I just meant. Wait, why would you even go there in the first place?”

“You tell me where your mind goes when you see your young fitnessed mentee strutting around in an outfit like _that_.”

“No need to be so defensive.”

“I’m not.”

His tone was defensive, and they both knew it. So, he shut up.

“How do I make things right again?”

The cheap, iridescent orange lights glowed like a beacon. Tony pulled the ball cap down even further and went inside. There was a different host, thank God.

“Just one?”? He smiled flirtatiously.

“Uh, yeah. Is Peter working tonight?

He already knew for a fact that he was thanks to EDITH.

“Right this way,” the boy said with just a bit of more attitude than necessary. Definitely some rivalry there.

Tony spotted him easily.

Peter was in his element, but Tony noticed that his shoulder dropped a bit. His smile wasn’t completely false, but it wasn’t genuine either. He peered at the drink menu wondering what sort of beverage would taste good without alcohol.

His young, attractive mentee appeared just then, staring at his notepad. Did he always greet his tables this way? Tony saw the exact moment Peter realized who he was talking to because his expression changed from surprised to guarded.

“Hi, welcome to Femboy Hooters. My name is Peter; I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Oh, Mr. Stark. It’s you.”

Tony smiled wryly.

“Hey, Pete.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.” Tony shrugged his shoulders.

Peter’s expression softened. “Please don’t tell me you came here to drag me away.”

“Don’t be silly. I came here for the food.”

He didn’t believe Tony, of course.

“Okay, can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, Diet Coke with lime, please.”

Peter scrunched up his nose but otherwise remained professional. “Right away, Mr. Stark.”

But did he have to call Tony that while dressed like _that_?

Peter flounced away, bottom moving side to side as he walked. Now, he hadn’t done _that_ for his other patrons. Tony felt a little bit special but glared around him at all the other middle aged men checking Peter out.

“Here you go, sir. Do you need another minute to look over the menu, Mr. Stark?”

He really didn’t know how long he could take Peter calling him that while dressed, well, like _that_.

“Just a burger, please; fries on the side. Load it up.”

“You got it. Anything else, sir?”

Ugh, his jeans were tight. “I- no, that will be all, Mr. Parker. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Stark.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath when Peter walked away. He pulled his phone out.

 **Tony** : What did I tell you about calling me that while dressed like THAT

He could see the kid in the server’s station read the message and grin devilishly. Oh, boy.

 **Peter** : In what sir? My uniform??

 **Tony** : Yeah, that.

 **Peter** : I’m sorry Mr Stark, it’s just a habit

 **Peter** : Sir

Just then, singing commenced.

“I believe we have a birthday boy,” a familiar voice sang.

No. No, no, no, _no_.

Indeed, Peter Parker was leading a long line of Femboy Hooters servers directly towards him.

“Happy, happy birthday from all of us to you. We wish you were our daddy, so we could party with you!”

The entire restaurant sang along and erupted into applause much to Tony’s immense embarrassment, and he wanted to kill the man in the corner whistling at his Peter.

The boy himself placed a cupcake with a single candle in front of him.

“Make a wish, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered into his ear.

 **Tony** : what the hell kid

 **Pete** : Calm down, old man

He choked on his Diet Coke and lime. 

**Tony** : Rude.

 **Peter** : You always call me kid.

Fair point, but he wasn’t going to let Peter know that.

His burger arrived a little while later, not that he was that interested in it. 

“Don’t you want your cupcake?” Peter cooed. 

Tony narrowed his eyes. “I just want to talk.”

“I’m working.”

“Fine. I’ll take a to-go box and the check, please.”

Peter looked like a sad puppy when he returned with the two items. Their hands brushed when Peter provided a pen. If the other felt any of the electric shock that Tony felt, he didn’t let it show.

He left a large tip and activated his suit as he walked out the door.

The flight home was beautiful with the city lights illuminating the route to the tower. He didn’t feel like going to the compound tonight. 

Tony didn’t feel like eating either when he got back to the tower. He simply put the box of food directly on the counter and sunk down into the leather couch. The smell of the penthouse was no longer familiar as Tony didn’t spend much time there after he and Pepper broke up. The faint odor of fabuloso and emptiness swirled around him.

What had he been trying to achieve exactly with Peter? What had he expected? It was an all-around weird situation. And why, for the love of God, did those shorts of Peter’s keep creeping into his mind?

He was lonely; that was it. Throw a bit of touch starved in there, as well. It had been a while, too. It had been even longer since he had been with a man. Peter had thrown him for such a loop that he had come across as an asshole, but Tony couldn’t handle the unexpected very well, clearly. It was one of the reasons he had a global intelligence system. 

A noise from behind had Tony leaping to his feet with his nanoparticle gauntlet raised. However, his back cracked with the force of his turn, and he howled in pain.

“Mr. Stark?!”

“Peter!” Tony gasped out before falling lopsided into the cushions. “Oh, God…”

“What’s wrong, sir?”

Peter Parker, still in his daisy dukes and crop top knelt down in front of Tony.

“Mr. Stark?”

The warm, sweet breath of his teenage protege brushed his cheek.

“Peter Parker. What are you doing?”

“I- I came to talk to you, sir, and apologize for how rude I was, but never mind that right now. You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

Tony groaned and put his face into his hands, peeking up at Peter through his fingers.

“What did I say about calling me that while dressed like _that_?”

It came out harsher than intended, but Peter wasn’t deterred.

“Here, let me help you sit up straight?” Peter gripped Tony’s bicep in his strong grip.

Tony tried to jerk his arm away. Peter wouldn’t let him.

“Tony.”

The man said nothing, so Peter tried again.

“Tony…” he softened his voice this time.

Didn’t Peter know if he didn’t leave this instant, Tony wouldn’t be able to explain how those daisy dukes ended up on the floor?

He looked at his novice intern who looked extra pretty with the glittery substance across his cheeks. For the first time, he was a little surprised to see the web shooters on Peter’s wrists. 

“You swung here?”

It took a second for Peter to realize what Tony was talking about.

“Oh, yeah.”

He adjusted them, fiddling with the mechanism for a few moments. Each was trying to figure out how to fill the silence.

“You know, this is why I didn’t want anyone to know. I knew that you would treat me differently”

Well, I can’t help it,” Tony spluttered. “When you look like…”

“Like a fairy?”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Tony snapped.

“Well, you are treating me differently.”

“I just asked you if you made your outfit or if they gave it to you!”

“That’s offensive!”

“No, it’s not! Stop being so sensitive!”

“So, it’s a crime to be sensitive now?”

Tony took a moment to collect himself. “That’s not what I’m saying I don’t have a problem with the way you dress. You can wear that in the lab for all I care unless you’re dealing with chemicals. Listen,” he leaned forward, wincing at his pulled muscle and shook his head when Peter went to stop him. 

“It just makes me feel like I’ve failed you in some way if you don’t feel comfortable being yourself when you’re with me.”

Peter didn’t speak for several moments. “Sir?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, just- no _don’t_ laugh right now. Just you make me feel things that are way inappropriate when you say that while wearing _that_!”

“Do you think I’m attractive?”

“Is that even a question right now?”

“So, you don’t.”

“Stop playing games,” Tony hissed. “I can’t stand the idea of all those strange men ogling you.”

“You ogle me.”

“That’s not the point, and I really shouldn’t.”

Peter dropped to his knees suddenly, and Tony leaned all the way back into the cushions to put some space between them.

“What are you doing?”

“Exactly what way do I make you feel?”

“Stop that.”

Peter had started to rub circles into Tony’s knee.

“Mr. Stark?” He fluttered his eyelashes.

“Peter…”

“Shh…” Peter whispered, pulling his index finger to Tony’s lips. “Let me make you feel some type of way.”

He, then, leaned forward.

“Tell me if you don’t want this because I’m going to kiss you, sir.”

Tony surprised them both by grabbing Peter’s neck and closing the distance. An embarrassing noise escaped his lips, but he couldn’t stop himself. Peter readily went into his lap, and Tony pushed his hands up the back of his shirt.

Peter broke the kiss and attacked his neck with what couldn’t be described as anything else but teenage vigor.

“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this, Mr. Stark. No idea.”

“Considering I have a lap full of you, I might have some idea.”

“Hush, old man, and let me jump your bones already.”

Tony guffawed.

“I- Is that not what you say?” Peter was absolutely serious.

“I- uh.”

“I did a bit of research, you see, because I wanted this moment to be perfect.”

To anyone else’s ears, it may have seemed completely ridiculous and downright embarrassing.

“You- how long exactly have you been wanting to jump this old man’s bones, as you say?”

Peter shifted his eyes and played with the collar of Tony’s shirt.

“Pete…”

“A couple of years or something.”

“Jesus,” Tony hissed as Peter’s finger brushed his nipple.

“It’s Peter, actually.”

“You’ve been spending _way_ too much time with me.”

“Not enough, actually,” Peter contradicted. “Now, tell me how pretty I look, Daddy.”

Whatever control Tony may have had on the situation snapped just them. An animalistic growl came from deep within his chest as he pushed his tongue past Peter’s sinful, pouting lips.

When they broke for air, Tony was the one who was panting. “Where’d you learn to kiss like that?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “As if you just asked me that. You’re not the first man I’ve kissed, and you’re definitely not the first middle-aged man who has stuck their tongue down my throat.”

Tony could feel his eyes darken with jealousy and lust. “What did you just say?”

“I- I take that back.”

Abruptly, Tony turned Peter over. The kid was surprisingly light despite the amount of muscle his body was packing. 

“What are you doing?” Peter protested.

“I’m getting a look at your ass before I turn it pink.”

“Oh, fuck yes,” Peter groaned. “Spank me, Daddy.”

Tony rubbed the skin of Peter’s pale thighs. “Oh, baby, if you wanted Daddy’s attention, you could’ve just said so.”

“I’ve dreamed about this for forever. I want you to finally dominate me, Mr. Stark.”

Tony let out a low whistle. It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore how hard his young mentee was against his lap.

Peter rutted a bit.

“You really want it, don’t you?”

“Obviously.”

“You might want to watch your mouth, darling.”

“Pull my hair, please.”

Tony was shocked at this writhing Peter in his lap, “I only take requests from good boys.”

With that, he pulled Peter’s jean shorts down with a touch of difficulty from the tight material.

“Oh, what do we have here?”

The Iron Man briefs had been unintentional but given the fact he had bought a five-pack, the probability of wearing a pair was higher than not.

“Do you like them?” His voice was muffled against Tony’s thigh.

“This takes the very meaning of underoos to a whole new level.

Peter giggled, “I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”

“Never,” Tony grinned then smacked his palm to Peter’s ass.

The yelp was very satisfying as well as the jiggle of his cheeks.

“Damn, baby,” Tony groaned.

“Call me Petey,” came Peter’s voice. “I know it’s weird, but I like it.”

“Petey, can you sit up for Daddy?”

He shot up. “Yes?”

“Let me look at you.”

Tony took Peter’s face into his hands, fingers brushing over his cheeks.

The makeup had survived the night of needy patrons and the swing through the city over, but Tony was familiar with the way it cracked near the corners of Peter’s eyes and the crease surrounding his nose. With this close inspection, he could see that there were at least five articles of makeup on the boy’s face including the concealer used to cover those pesky pimples.

“You’re beautiful, Petey.”

Peter seemed lost for words, so Tony prompted him, “What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony replied, approvingly. 

He kissed Peter’s plump lips again, enjoying each touch more than the last. The longer they kissed, Tony wondered how he had kept such a tight lid on his inner desires. He was a better man than he originally thought.

The trouble with being Tony Stark was that he was always thinking, always analyzing. He used to wonder if anyone else had this same defect, but after sharing time and space with Pepper, the realist, he decided, that no. There were only a few people like him in the world, and most of them tended to be insane. Take Obadiah Stane or Aldrich Killian, for example. Justin Hammer tried but was too much of an idiot.

The problem with Peter was that he could keep kissing and kissing him forever, and the teen would not object because they both struggled with keeping a grip on reality.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that with this in mind, their sexual experience together would be like foreplay to their analytical inner beings.

He never really knew he needed Peter Parker like that, but all of those intense Saturday mornings lab sessions made a lot more sense when Peter was bouncing up and down on his cock, calling him Daddy.

It had all been foreplay and Femboy Hooters was the catalyst.

And that is how Tony Stark became the top shareholder of a burger joint where the male servers wore glittery crop tops to end toxic masculinity.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was fun.


End file.
